WIFE WANTED (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (4 page)

A few minutes later, Charlotte came back over and sat down with a chart. “They’re stitching up the wound now. It looked worse than it was. I think she passed out from shock more than anything else. She should be finished soon, and her doctor just entered the building.”

“Thank God. He better be coming up to see her immediately.”

“He is, but you’re freezing. Let me get you my change of clothes. I’ll be right back. Then you can go see your mom and him, all right?”

Phoebe really couldn’t argue. She wanted to be able to yell at Doctor Chambers without her teeth chattering. Kind of took away the intimidating edge she wanted to have. Not that she was all that scary. She was barely five-foot-three and thin. There was a time she didn’t look so skinny, so pale. That was a long, long time ago.

Twenty minutes later, she wore a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater and was marching towards her mom’s room where Doctor Chambers stood, looking over her vitals.

“Ah, Phoebe, there you are,” he said when she entered. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“Again…sorry this happened again,” she snapped as she hurried to her mom’s bedside. There was a bandage on her forehead, but other than that, she looked perfectly healthy. Phoebe was a spitting image of her mother, minus the streaks of grey and white that ran through her mom’s hair. “We have to do something else. Please, there has to be another drug to stop this.”

Doctor Chambers sighed and went to close the door. “Please, have a seat.”

Phoebe let go of her mom’s hand and went to the small table and chairs in the corner. He sat down across from her and took off his glasses, looking much older all of a sudden.

“Phoebe, we’ve talked about this. Your mother has a tumor in her brain.”

“Yes, I know.”

“But what you don’t seem to understand is that drugs will not help her. Not in this state.” He reached out a gentle hand and patted hers. “She needs surgery. The tumor is in a place it can be removed, but it might not stay that way for long. If it continues to grow…if it gets any worse, we will lose our chance.”

Phoebe’s eyes filled with hot tears she quickly wiped away, sniffing hard to try and stay in control. “I can’t afford that surgery,” she whispered. “Mom’s money is gone, my savings are dried up…I can’t even get a loan from the bank.”

“Her insurance will help—”

“Not enough, and the last time I talked with them, they told me there was a chance they might not cover anything. I can’t…I can’t help her.”

Doctor Chambers held her hand as she cried. They’d had this conversation before, numerous times, but Phoebe knew there was nothing he could do. This was the way the world worked. She couldn’t pay for the surgery. She was going to watch her mother suffer before the tumor finally killed her and put an end to it all.

“When I can take her home?” she asked when the crying stopped.

“In two days. I want to hold her and make sure there was no severe head damage from the fall.”

Phoebe nodded as she stood and grabbed her purse. “Thank you, Doctor. Really.”

“I’ll try another prescription for you. It might hold off any attacks, but Phoebe, that surgery is going to be the only thing that saves your mother.”

She knew it, but what could she do? She kissed her mom—who was still asleep—goodbye and headed out the door. Charlotte was waiting for her in the hall. “How’d it go?”

“She’s not doing well,” Phoebe said. “I have to get the money for that surgery.”

“You can’t work anymore,” her friend argued. “You’re already barely getting any sleep at night! Why don’t I loan you the money?”

“No way, and no offense, but you don’t have that much,” she said as she pressed the button for the elevator. “I lied to Doctor Chambers about the insurance. They won’t cover Mom, not anymore. They’re getting ready to drop her.”

“What? They can’t do that.”

Phoebe hung her head. “Apparently they can, and I can’t get her on mine.”

She’d been working for her company for years, barely making ends meet. She was just an office monkey really, working in the archives room. The assistant to the big wigs who actually made the money. But when the time came for her to need help and ask for it, they’d told her she could either find a new job or stop whining about her salary. That was Monday. She’d taken a week of vacation just to piss them off.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll just have to go back to the bank and plead for a loan somehow.”

“Actually…why don’t I come over after my shift? I have something that might help you out,” her friend said. “And I’ll bring the wine?”

“Another one of your crazy schemes?”

“Maybe, but this one actually might work. See you in a bit.”

Charlotte hurried off as the elevator doors opened and Phoebe stepped in. She wondered how many others right beside her were in desperate situations. What were they doing about it? What could any of them do about it?

Chapter 5

Around six, there was a knock at Phoebe’s door. Charlotte was right on time and, as promised, came in toting six bottles of wine and a bottle of tequila. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought both,” she said as Phoebe laughed.

“I think I’ll start with the wine, for now.”

“Good choice.”

“So, mind filling me in on this great idea of yours?”

Charlotte grinned as she pulled out two wine glasses from the kitchen cabinet and opened a bottle of deep red. “First you need a drink.”

“That bad, huh?” Phoebe laughed as she took the glass and sipped the liquid. It went down smooth and fruity. “You waste this expensive stuff on me.”

“You’re worth it.”

They made their way, bottle of wine in hand, to the couch and plopped down. Not that there was anywhere else to sit, really. Phoebe’s tiny little place had been perfect for her, but when her parents moved in, the walls seemed to close in. Maybe she’d try to find a new place.
Yeah? And with what money are you going to do that? Quit dreaming
.

“Phoebe, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just…I don’t think I like this place anymore.”

“Hmm, I think you just need a man in your life,” her friend said, twirling her blonde hair around a finger. She glanced around the living room, then her eyes landed on the suit jacket hanging on a peg by the door. “Speak of the devil.”

“What?” Phoebe watched her jump up and grab the suit jacket. It’d finally dried out in the tub so she’d hung it, hoping to stop it from getting wrinkled. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. Who’s is this?”

“It’s not what you think, promise.”

Charlotte laughed in disbelief. “Whatever. You’re just holding out on me.”

“No, some nice guy at the cemetery gave it to me when it started raining,” she said, getting up to try and take it back from Charlotte. “I don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“Well, whoever he is, he’s got money. Did you feel this material? It’s like butter! And tailored, too. Damn, why couldn’t you have gotten a number?”

Phoebe shrugged as she hung the jacket back up gently. “Why? So I can beg him for money?”

Charlotte choked on her wine, and Phoebe turned around to glare at her.

“Oh no, I know what you want me to do,” she hissed. “You want me to be a gold digger!”

“I never said that,” Charlotte said as she sipped her wine. “I never said that at all.”

Phoebe shook her head as she grabbed her wine and shot it back. Then she poured another glass and chugged that too, as her friend watched, wide-eyed and worried. “I can’t do that, Charlotte, I can’t! I haven’t even…you know…”

“You’re a virgin still? Jesus, Phoebe, how long are you going to hold out! You’re almost twenty-five!”

“Yeah, well, the right guy just hasn’t come along.”

“The right guy. You’ll be waiting forever. Listen, I’m not saying you have to have sex with the guy right off the bat, but just look at this.” Charlotte went back to the kitchen, pulled her laptop out of her bag and made Phoebe sit down next to her on the couch. It took a second for her to pull up the website, but then she set the laptop in Phoebe’s lap and took her wine glass. “Here. I found this the other day and thought about doing it myself, but right now, I think you need this more than I do.”

“
Billionaire Future Husbands
…seriously? What the hell is this site?”

“Basically, the richest of the rich put up their profiles to find the love of their lives, or something that looks like love. Whatever. The point is it’s a dating website strictly for rich men. Super rich men. Men that could afford to pay for your mom’s surgery.”

Phoebe started to scroll through the pictures of available men. Most of them weren’t too bad looking, and she started to read through their profiles until a message popped up on the screen saying she had to create one of her own first. “Oh no, I can’t sign up for this. What if someone finds out?”

“Like who? Your neighbor whose been hitting on you for years? Come on, Phoebe, what do you have to lose? Find a rich guy, get married, then divorce him once your mom’s surgery is paid for.”

“That’s horrible. I can’t do that.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Phoebe. I’ll help you get it set up, then we’ll start hunting you down a man. Just make up an alias if you’re that worried. You can always tell the guy your real name later.”

Red flags were popping up one after the other inside Phoebe’s mind as she started to fill out the required fields, using her middle name as her first and her mother’s maiden name as her last. Technically it wasn’t wrong…technically. She did it, trying not to overthink what she was doing. This was just morally wrong. She was not a gold digger. She worked for her money, worked hard to get where she was. Having someone take care of her and pay for things? She wasn’t used to that. She’d wanted to find love, settle down with a guy who knew what it meant to work, too, and live that hard life. Not someone who’d been spoiled since they were born into daddy’s rich world.

But then again… She finished filling out her profile, but when it came time to attach a picture, she skipped that step and clicked enter. Once she’d set it up, it let her start looking again. “Oh, my God,” she muttered. “Do you see who’s on here?”

There, smiling as if he was the best thing in the world, was Phoebe’s boss. “I know you hate him, but he is a bit of a looker.”

Phoebe bit off a laugh. “William Yancey? He’s an asshole and he’s like twenty years older than me. Treats everyone beneath him like shit. That, and I found some weird files on my desk the other day. Asked him about them and he sort of started to freak out…think he’s a bit on the crazy side. No wonder he’s on here. He’s got a new bimbo every other week!”

“Careful. You’re on this site now,” Charlotte teased. “Someone might think you’re just a bimbo, too.”

That stopped Phoebe’s hand on the mousepad. “I can’t do this. It’s going to make me look horrible! I mean really, Charlotte, do I have to sink this low?”

Charlotte told her to hold that thought and went back to the small kitchen. She came back with two shot glasses and the bottle of tequila. “Do you want your mom to get her surgery or not? This is the only way for you to get that money, Phoebe. As your friend, I’m telling you this is the only legal way to get it and get it fast.”

Phoebe took the shot of clear liquid. “To desperate times,” she muttered.

“That’s the spirit!” Charlotte shot hers back, too, then poured two more. “Now, where were we?”

***

Phoebe giggled as she shot the last of the tequila. “Did you see this one?” she asked, her words slurring as she pointed at the screen. Charlotte scooted closer, laughing uncontrollably too as she squinted at the image. “He’s got a dead cat on his head!”

“Oh, man, you should go with him. Look how much money he’s worth!”

“Nope, not happening…hey, we’re out of tequila.” Phoebe held the empty bottle upside down and pouted. “Well, crap.”

“Wait, scroll back up.”

“What, what did you see?”

“I’m not sure…no way. That’s the guy who’s like Bruce Wayne-level rich! Click on him!”

Charlotte did it for Phoebe when she took too long, and they both stared. There was no picture of the guy, though. “Hmm, that’s too bad.”

“Wait, at least read about him.”

Phoebe wasn’t sure if she was able to read too well, but she did her best. It didn’t give too much on his background but listed the charities he donated to, what he did in the company, etc. There was a bit of talk about what he liked to do for fun…and a timeframe for when he needed to find a wife.

“Charlotte, look!”

“What?”

“He has to be married in two months!”

“Does it say why?”

Phoebe scrolled down the page but there was nothing. “Nope, nothing. Oh, man,” she muttered as her stomach suddenly clenched painfully. “Think…think I’m gonna be sick.” She set the laptop to the side and bolted to the bathroom. The tequila, along with everything else, came rushing back up. A few minutes later, she threw cold water on her face then staggered back to the living room. Charlotte still had the laptop open, but she’d fallen asleep and was snoring lightly. Phoebe laughed, not quite sure what she was doing, then made her way to the easy chair. She got in, popped the recliner, and let sleep take her.